Hale Yeah, It's You, page 17
No longer a drowned raccoon—I almost laugh at the thought. My eyes are bright now, still soft at the corners from smiling. My lips are swollen and pink from kissing, and there's a new flush across my cheeks. There’s something alive in my expression, something wild and awake. I recognize myself, but I also don’t. I look like a woman in love.
A soft knock taps on the door. “Want me to set these clothes outside for you?” Roman’s voice carries through the wood, lower now, quieter—like the intimacy of the night has seeped into his every word.
I crack the door open, gripping the towel tight with one hand as I reach for the clothes with the other. He’s standing there barefoot, in a fitted T-shirt and gray joggers, his damp hair curling slightly at the edges. God, he looks good. Soft and safe and sexy all at once.
“Thanks,” I say with a smile, my heart thudding as our fingers brush.
“I’ll throw your wet ones in the dryer and start a fire,” he offers, that nervous smile tugging at the edge of his mouth like he’s waiting for me to laugh or pull away.
Instead, I nod, closing the door to gather my soaked clothes. I wedge my bra and underwear between my jeans and shirt—somehow the act seems more intimate than being naked in front of him. It’s been so long since we’ve been like this, but everything is new again, charged.
When I hand him the bundle, he smiles knowingly, his fingers brushing mine again before I close the door and lean against it with a quiet breath. The clothes he gave me—an oversized T-shirt and a pair of boxer briefs—make me laugh. The briefs settle low on my hips, borderline scandalous, but the shirt is long enough to cover what needs covering. My legs are bare, and my hair’s still a mess of damp curls, but I feel beautiful. Wanted.
I twist my hair back into my clip and leave the steamy bathroom to find Roman.
He’s kneeling in front of the fireplace, adding logs to the flames, the light dancing across his face. My breath catches. “Do they fit okay?” he asks, glancing over his shoulder.
“They’ll do,” I say, tugging at the waistband playfully before sinking into the loveseat.
He joins me, the heat from the fire and the nearness of his body making the room seem warmer than it is. My foot accidentally brushes his and he jolts.
“Geeze, Frankie, your feet are popsicles.” He laughs, reaching for the quilt draped over the back of the couch. He pulls it over us both, gently shifting me until my legs drape across his lap. “Let me fix that.”
His hands wrap around my feet—strong and warm. He rubs slow, deliberate circles into my arches, and I nearly melt. My eyes flutter closed as the stress leaves my body in waves.
“I thought you hated feet,” I murmur, sighing as he presses a thumb deeper into the ball of my foot.
“You remember that?” he asks.
“I remember a lot of things.” I remember everything, when it comes to you.
“I do find most feet repulsive.” He chuckles. “But I haven’t found a single inch of you I don’t want to touch.”
My eyes fly open. He grins, cocky and sincere, and I squirm against the back of the couch, but his hands keep working their magic.
“Are you warm enough?” he asks.
“Mmhmm.” I pat the blanket. “I could get used to this.”
“Me too,” he says softly, and his hands never stop moving.
The fire crackles in front of us, the scent of smoke and soap and rain weaving into something comforting. Somewhere behind us, the gentle thump of tumbling clothes hums in the dryer. The rain taps softly at the windows, as if trying to remind us that the world still exists beyond these walls. But in here, it’s only him and me.
“You asked me a personal question earlier,” I say, shifting enough to thread my fingers through his under the blanket. “About kids. I told you I’d come back to it.”
Roman turns toward me, his eyes searching mine.
“I do want to have more children someday,” I say. “I love Alayna, I really do, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to experience creating and carrying a child with someone I love. It’s always been a dream of mine… to share that.”
His gaze drops to the fire again, unreadable for a moment. “I wasn’t sure,” he admits quietly. “If I wanted that. If I could be that.”
“You weren’t sure… or you’re still not?”
His fingers tense around mine. Then he looks at me, eyes raw and vulnerable. “The day you walked into the school with Alayna… when I thought, even for a second, that she might be mine… it hit me harder than I expected.”
“I’m sorry I let you think that,” I whisper.
“Don’t be. I made the assumption, not you.”
“But I should’ve said something.”
He shakes his head. “No. I’m glad you didn’t. Because I found myself wishing it were true… I wanted it to be true. I wanted her to be mine. Ours.”
Emotion tightens my chest as his voice goes soft. “Working with kids, I always felt protective, like a mentor. But now… now I want it all. I want to love someone so much that your love creates a whole new person. The late nights, the lullabies, the messy, beautiful chaos of parenthood. And I have you to thank for that.”
I sit up, climbing into his lap and wrapping myself around him like he’s the center of my universe. “You’d be amazing at it,” I say, pressing kisses along his jaw.
“That means everything coming from you,” he murmurs, his arms wrapping tight around me. “I know we’re not there yet. I’m not saying I’ve mapped out our future, but I want to be clear—I’m open to it. I want that life… with you.”
Words stumble over themselves in my brain, tangling into a heap on my tongue, refusing to unscramble into anything coherent. There are at least a dozen ways I could respond to such a romantic declaration, but my tongue stays paralyzed. So I do the only thing I can think to do—I press my lips against his and kiss him. I kiss him with every piece of love I’ve ever stored up for him, praying the words will bleed through our kisses and settle into his soul.
The dryer buzzes, abrupt and uninvited. We both laugh, breathless against each other, the blanket around us suddenly too warm.
I know I need to go soon, give us both space to breathe, to make sense of all that’s happened tonight. As much as I want to stay here in his arms, I don’t want to rush things. Maybe call Sarah, work through all my feelings. Maybe sit in the quiet of my own room and replay this all again in my mind.
But as I rest my head against Roman’s shoulder, there’s one thing I don’t need to overthink—my heart is his, as it always has been. Maybe he never really let it go.
CHAPTER 27
Roman and I have been texting all weekend—little jokes, lighthearted conversations, nothing too heavy. Like we’re both afraid to break the spell that Friday night wrapped around us. We’re living in a bubble, and one wrong move could pop it. Maybe that’s what happens when you have a history—everything is a little more delicate, it’s been cracked before and you don’t want to press too hard in the same spot.
As much as I want to race back to his place and pick up where we left off, I don’t want to ruin whatever magic we’ve stirred back up.
Still, that night with Roman relit a fire in me—a fire that clearly never burned out. I want him. No matter the risk, I want him.
The rest of my weekend is quiet and oddly blissful. I add a few potted plants around the apartment, lounge around in my underwear, read half a novel, and blast music without worrying if anyone else likes my playlist. There’s no one to hide from, no one to cater to or tiptoe around. The freedom is intoxicating.
But also a little lonely. A double-edged sword. After so many years of sharing my space—my life—it’s strange having so much of it to myself. I’m still figuring out how to take up space again.
By Sunday afternoon, I can’t keep the date to myself any longer. I sprawl out on the couch in my pajamas, prop my phone up on the coffee table, and hit Sarah’s contact.
“Hey hey, gorgeous! How’s the new place treating you?” Sarah’s voice booms through the speaker.
“I’m currently taking up the entire couch, staring at the ceiling fan, and wishing my bestie was here to bask in the sunshine with me.”
“Wow, you sound suspiciously chipper for someone who was drowning in an existential crisis last week. What did I miss? Please don’t tell me you let Clay talk you into another round of bad dates.”
I sit up, grabbing a bottle of neon pink nail polish and propping my toes on the table. “Nope. Still haven’t heard from him—or Alayna.”
“Ugh. They’ll come around,” she says, her voice softening.
Will they, though? Alayna’s avoidance tactics are becoming an Olympic-level event. Clay’s never frozen me out like this before, and it stings more than I want to admit. I hate that I still check my phone, hoping to see his name pop up.
“It hurts,” I say quietly. “I really thought Clay would come around by now.”
“Don’t get me started on Clay. I’m trying to be a good person here, but he makes me want to fight someone. Preferably him.”
I laugh in spite of myself. “Well, I did have a date on Friday… but not with Clay.”
“Oh my god. Wait—did Dr. Hottie finally get his act together?”
“You and your nicknames. You know he asked if I was still hanging out with ‘Patchouli Sarah’?”
Sarah snorts. Loudly. “I love that nickname. I should put that on my nametag at the shop. No, I’ll make it permanent. I’m getting it tattooed.”
“You should. It’ll be a great icebreaker for your next hookup.”
“Okay, enough stalling. Give me details. All of them.”
I hug myself, grinning before I can stop it. “We went to the burger truck. It was… easy. The conversation flowed. Then it started raining, and when we got back to his place, he whisked me out to the back porch and recreated our first kiss.”
“Shut UP. The doctor’s got moves.”
And foot rub skills, but I keep that detail for myself.
“We were drenched, so he gave me clothes to change into and dried mine while we warmed up by the fire.”
“Naked?” she screeches.
“No, perv. I just said I wore his clothes.”
She’s wheezing now. “What a gentleman.”
“It was kind of magical, honestly.” I pause, fingers brushing over my collarbone like the memory is still sitting there. “I think I’m in real trouble, Sarah.”
“It’s about time. I’m so happy for you, babe.”
And I am happy. It’s a physical thing—like I’m lit up from the inside, electricity humming under my skin. I hope Roman feels it, too.
“I hope my family can be happy for me someday.”
“They will be. They love you. And they’ll come around.”
“Remind me again why you live two hours away?”
“Because the universe knew we were too powerful to share a zip code. We’re a threat to the local ecosystem. Gotta spread the beauty around.”
“Right. Can’t hoard the charm and sarcasm.” My sides hurt as I laugh.
“You have selective memory. You ignore anything you don’t like.”
It’s meant as a joke, but I hear the truth in it. Maybe that was me for a long time—trying not to see what hurt. But I’m not doing that anymore. I’m not hiding from myself. I’m breaking out of my shell; I can feel myself emerging.
“Alright, enough about me. What are you working on for the next gallery show? I want to brag to all the art kids at school.”
“Oh, you know. Life, death. Big existential themes.”
“Sarah… I’m trying to be serious here.”
“Frankie, you’re the most serious person I know. I’d be more shocked if you said you were trying not to be serious.” Sarah snorts again.
Sarah missed her calling as a comedian; my cheeks already hurt from smiling. This is why she’s the best friend I could ask for, because we balance each other out where it counts. “Ha. Ha. Just tell me about your work.”
“Okay, okay. It’s a series called New Beginnings. A pregnant woman cradling her belly. A teenage girl mid-first kiss. A man waiting for his bride. A clown wiping off his makeup…”
“A clown?” I blink.
“Making sure you’re still listening.”
I laugh. “You really feel like a clown?”
“Sometimes. But I’m ready to take the stage makeup off and just be myself again.”
“You thinking about dating again?” I ask, nudging her the same way she always does me.
“I… maybe agreed to a date next weekend. Met him at the shop. Which is normally a no for me.” She sighs.
“I’m glad you’re putting yourself out there, maybe he’ll be nice.” I smile, knowing she’s already considering backing out. That’s just how she is.
“It would be nice to have someone warm me up by the fire. Naked or otherwise.” She laughs.
“We were not naked.”
“Like you’d tell me if you were.”
Touché. I shake my head, smiling. “Let me know when your next show is. I’ll be first in line when the doors open.”
“You’ll be the first person I call. Love you, babe.”
“Love you, too, lady.”
CHAPTER 28
Mrs. Betty beams at me Monday morning as the bell rings for class change, only adding to my already bubbly mood. We’ve been flying through the first set build, and the iconic balcony scene is finally starting to take shape. The kids are surprisingly handy with the power tools.
“I’d say we’re moving faster than a cheetah on roller skates!” Betty claps her hands, grinning. A few students snicker as they head out of the theater.
My chest swells with pride as I watch them go. They’re seeing their work come alive, piece by piece, and there’s nothing quite like it. Maybe I should’ve been a teacher after all. But at least the hardware store classes will give me a little taste of that—if things go the way I hope.
“I’d say that’s pretty accurate.” I laugh. “I don’t see any reason we won’t finish with time to spare.”
“Stunning sets for a stunning performance. I’m tickled pink.” Betty pats my arm and turns to wrangle a group of students near the paint trays.
The theater is buzzing with energy—bright lights overhead, tarps protecting the wood floor, paint cans and brushes scattered in various stages of use. Everything’s in motion.
I keep glancing toward the double doors, hoping to see Roman through the glass. I missed him first thing this morning—his office was empty before school started—and I can’t shake the feeling of anticipation curling in my gut. It’s ridiculous how much it reminds me of being seventeen again.
Betty’s definitely on to me.
Just have to get through the school day and then I can track him down. But for now, I’m trying not to spiral about Alayna. I scan the students filing in, but she’s not among them. My heart races a little faster. Where is she?
Did Clay let her stay home again? Is she sick? I step into the aisle, trying to peer out into the hallway. A couple of students rush past as the second bell rings, and then… nothing. The hallway goes still. My shoulders sag.
I start to pull the door closed, but as I do, Roman turns the corner.
I step into the hallway, a small smile tugging at the corners of my lips despite the knot of nerves tightening in my stomach. He smiles back, but there’s a weight to it. The usual spark behind his eyes is missing, and my pulse only stutters harder.
He stops in front of me, running a hand along his jaw. His suit jacket is missing today, his sleeves pushed up, the top of his button-down undone. His navy slacks are slightly wrinkled, and he looks like he could use a stiff drink. There’s something important behind his eyes.
“Hey, you,” I say softly, reaching out to touch his forearm. His skin is warm under my fingertips, comforting in a way I didn’t know I needed.
“Hey, Frankie.” He exhales. “As much as I want to be just Roman right now, I’m here in a principal capacity. I need to speak to you as Ms. Hale—the guardian of Ms. Alayna.”
My stomach drops. “Oh God, is she okay?” I tighten my grip on his arm.
“She’s fine—physically. But I need you to come with me. I’ll explain once we’re there, if that’s alright.”
I let go of his arm, suddenly hyper aware of how inappropriate it is to touch him right now. My mind reels. Alayna’s never been in trouble. What could she possibly have done?
I nod, forcing myself to stay calm. “Yes, sir. Lead the way.”
Roman flinches slightly at the ‘sir,’ and his eyes soften with something like regret. Still, he nods and turns toward the front office. I count tiles on the floor as we walk, anything to distract from the panic tightening my chest. I’m a mess—splattered paint on my shirt, jeans, and even my tennis shoes. I can only pray there’s no dried primer on my face.
Kate looks up from her desk as we enter. Her golden hair is twisted into the same elegant updo from the other day, and her pink business suit fits her like it was tailored for her curves. I stand a little taller, trying not to shrink. It feels like I’m the one in trouble and not my niece.
“Ms. Payton, please hold my calls,” Roman says without looking at her.
“Yes, Dr. Clarke.” Her tone is neutral, but I swear there’s a flicker of something in her eyes as she glances at me.
Alayna is already seated in one of the worn chairs in front of Roman’s desk, her back to me. My heart thuds.
“Please, come inside and have a seat, Ms. Hale.” Roman’s voice is gentle, but there's tension in it.
Alayna turns at the sound of my name. Her eyes are glassy, rimmed red. I rush to her, crouching in front of her chair.
“Are you hurt?” I scan her, head to toe. Nothing broken. No bruises. I brush a tear off her cheek.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers, voice barely audible.
Roman gestures to the chairs. “If you’ll sit, we can begin.”
Reluctantly, I take the seat beside Alayna and pull her hand into my lap. She squeezes mine back, and it nearly undoes me. I’ve missed her.
